A Deep Space Nine Oddity: The Psychology of Pirates
by DavestWriterDavidson
Summary: Julian Bashir and Elim Garak are whisked away as the patrol ship Beagle and her captain pursue Nausican pirates- but, when all seems lost, only Garak holds the key to victory.


_THE PSYCHOLOGY OF PIRATES_

_A DEEP SPACE NINE ODDITY_

**_Editor's Note: For all you psych students out there, keep your eyes peeled for the name_****_ drops. Even if they aren't in your language._**

**_Editor's Note II: Yes, I did consider naming this "DS9 Odo-ties"/"Odoties", but I figured it was too cheesy. Maybe next time, Cadets._**

Stardate Unknown.

Julian Bashir lined up his shot, one eye carefully closed and the other focused down towards the target. Taking Elim Garak's advice, he allowed his arm and hand to simply become an extension of himself- a machine, if you will.

Balancing carefully, one half fighting off the uneasiness that arose in this final moment of tension and the other fighting back the seven glasses of Maraltian seev-ale he'd had earlier in the evening, Julian prepared to make his move.

"_Doctor Bashir, your presence is requested in Ops."_

His shot went wide, nearly impaling an Andorian seated nearby. The dart whistled as it went past the Andorian's antennae before embedding itself in the wall.

"Fine shot," Chief O'Brien said as he clapped Julian on the back, "Y'know, you keep losing like this and people are going to start thinking you're losing intentionally."

All the good doctor could do was sigh in defeat.

"I had it in my sights," He said, turning back to his friend, "Next time, you won't be saved by the bell, Chief."

"Didn't have to be the last three times, but I'll take your word for it." O'Brien replied with a smile.

Julian shook his head and tapped his combadge as he strolled out of Quark's bar, "On my way, Ops."

* * *

Upon entering Captain Sisko's office, Julian found himself greeted by another Starfleet officer. A captain, but one he hadn't seen before- especially not in such a state of dishevelment.

His black and grey uniform was charred and cut open, and his face had an uneven shave around the centerpiece goatee. There were also two noticeable holsters set alongside his hips. Yet, despite the rough, frazzled exterior, his eyes shone with a friendly, inviting twinkle.

He extended a white spotted hand.

"Captain Alex Paige, _U.S.S. Beagle_."

Bashir shook it, grasping it tightly in response to the captain's grip.

"Doctor Julian Bashir."

"I've heard lots about you, Doc. Captain Sisko, here, tells me you're the best medic this side of the border."

Julian cast a glance back to Sisko, who gave him a reaffirming nod.

"Well, I don't like to boast, but that's probably true."

Captain Paige chuckled and turned back to Sisko.

"I like him, Benjamin, reminds me of you back in the Academy."

Sisko stood from his desk and let a devilish grin sneak past his usually formal façade.

"Hey, now, you were the real braggart, always talking about some foolhardy errand you'd gone off on, especially in places where you should've kept your mouth shut."

Captain Paige shrugged and placed his thumbs forward atop the holsters.

"Ah well, those Academy instructors still passed me."

"Probably to get you out of their class," Sisko said as he patted Paige on the shoulder, "It's what I would've done."

They shared a short laugh before turning back to Julian.

"Now, Doc, since you're the best medic here I'm going to have to ask for your help. Our chief medical officer was killed two weeks ago, and I've got too many criticals on my hands. Captain Sisko here said you'd be willing to help."

"Of course," Julian began, "My clinic is-"

Paige waved him back.

"I'm sure the clinic is great, Doc, but I've got people who can't be transported off. I was hoping you'd be willing to come aboard and work on them, while the less-seriously wounded were taken care of here by your nurses."

Slightly caught off, Julian regained himself when he saw Sisko lower his gaze towards him.

"That could also be arranged. I'll likely need a small team alongside to help treat everyone."

"I've got some veteran field medics onboard; they can show you the way around our systems and get you where you need to be. Feel free to bring along anybody you think might be useful. We're at docking pylon one."

"I'll get right on it, sir."

* * *

As Julian made his way towards Docking Pylon One, he double-checked his medkit to make sure he had all the proper supplies. It was due to this dereliction of duty in keeping his eyes forward, however, that lead him straight into Elim Garak, the Cardassian tailor aboard Deep Space Nine and on-again-off-again confirmed-alleged member of the Obsidian Order.

The Cardassian widened his eyes in what Julian could only assume was mock surprise.

"Ah, Doctor Bashir, odd to see you out this late," He said as unassumingly as he could muster, "It couldn't have anything to do with the Federation patrol ship that docked an hour ago, could it?"

"No, Garak, it doesn't. I'm just off to bed to cuddle with my emergency med-kit." Julian replied, closing the case and continuing on his way again.

Garak wheeled on after him.

"How strange, Doctor. Most medical professionals tend to leave their work at the door, interesting to know you take it all the way to the bedroom."

Julian simply rolled his eyes as he turned down the hallway.

"Did you know that three out of eight medical professionals originally joined the field in order to fulfill either their own or their partner's fantasies?"

"How fascinating." Julian responded, attempting to make his disinterest as clear as possible before they reached the airlock doors.

"Tell me, Doctor, you wouldn't happen to be one of those three would you?" He asked, what counted as eyebrows for Cardassians arching in mock suspicion.

Julian jammed his thumb onto the control panel to open the airlock before turning to vent his frustrations.

"No, Garak, I am _not _one of those three. I joined Starfleet Medical to help people, to _save _people, and right now this conversation is holding me back from doing exactly that."

"Oh, what a shame, it would've made for a thrilling luncheon conversation tomorrow. I'll just be on my way then."

"Thank you." Julian said, exasperated. Between the drinks at Quarks and the ungodly hours he would be working, Garak was about to be the straw that would break his back.

Unfortunately, a twig-thin Starfleet officer in a blue sciences uniform turned the corner to ensure that back would break.

"You must be Doctor Bashir, we've been waiting on you," He glanced to Garak, "You must be one of his people. I don't know much about you Cardassians, but I do know you always seem to wile your way into a victory, we appreciate the help."

Before Julian could protest, Garak had already slipped by and was shaking the officer's hand.

"Elim Garak, at your service. I have extensive experience in physical therapy and psychology."

"Lieutenant Clark Hull, glad to welcome you aboard. A psychologist will be a welcome addition to the new recruits, for a lot of them this was their first real firefight."

As the duo walked down the airlock tube towards the ship, Garak offering platitudes and observations that were more than likely fabricated, all Julian could do was shake his head in his hands.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Three hours later, and he'd barely made a dent in the long list of patients who needed to be treated. Even with the aid of Lieutenant Hull, the _Beagle'_s systems were impossible to fathom, as if they'd been programmed in a different language.

"Just jury rigged too many times." The lieutenant had told him and, from what he'd seen of the internal wiring, Julian had to agree. This ship was running on hopes and dreams, but even those were becoming exhausted.

Garak, thankfully, had stayed out of his way and, true to his word, had surprisingly been of great help to those who needed counsel. It was a strange sight to see a Cardassian bringing such comfort and care, and part of Julian couldn't help but view Garak's acts through a lens of skepticism, but the hard truth of it was that he really was helping. It was a pleasant change.

The doctor sat back from the operating table, still smeared with blood and sweat, and stretched his arms to the sky. The sick bay stank of death and was piled almost as high with the wounded, and in the past five hours Julian had sank his hands into almost every single one of them. He'd been able to stabilize at least a dozen of them, enough so that they were simply awaiting transport to Deep Space Nine, but countless others had been beyond saving. Sometimes, all he'd been able to do was to simply end their suffering, but only after he'd exhausted himself attempting to save them. Then it was on to the next lost cause, more toiling in a futile fight for life, then onto the next and then the next. Each face and name bored into his soul, and as he sat back and weighed the scales his heart could only sink.

No matter how many you saved, you never forgot the ones you lost.

He was taken aback from his thoughts as Elim sat down next to him. The Cardassian's head was bowed, and his shoulders sagged under the weight of his own exhaustion. Julian couldn't blame him, who knows how many people Garak had to talk down or how many simply spat in his face due to him being Cardassian. Whatever his true intentions may be, it was clear that, at least most of the time, he truly was attempting to start a new life onboard DS9.

Garak looked up at him, a world's worth of pain and fatigue simmering in his eyes.

"You know, Doctor, I thought Starfleet taught its people to be accepting of help in any form. So far, from what I've seen, this ship missed that memo."

"You can't blame them, Garak. They've been on patrol along almost every world from here to Draken Four, and they just suffered a catastrophic loss along the Cardassian border, frankly I'm surprised they didn't throw you off the ship the moment you stepped on."

"Regardless of how thinly stretched Starfleet has them," Garak replied, sitting back up, "They'd make terrible diplomats. No wonder they're normally kept within Federation borders, if they act like this all the time they'd be starting a new incident every other week."

Rubbing his eyes, Julian stifled a yawn.

"They're essentially police officers, they aren't meant to be diplomats."

"Something I assumed humans had evolved past long ago," Garak said, slipping back under the mask of aloofness, "Perhaps I presumed too much." His lips curled backwards into a smile that sent a shiver down Julian's spine.

He was too tired to argue with Garak now, though. All he wanted was a decent bed and a few hours of escape from reality.

Suddenly, he was jolted awake as alarms began to blare out across the ship. Alert lights flashed from the overhead and the room darkened in response, leaving them shrouded in a whirling disco of red and black.

The deckplates shuddered beneath them, and Julian wheeled around from his seat and ran to a console to find out just whatwas happening. Before he even had a chance to tap the screen, a voice crackled through the overhead speakers.

"This is the captain, those Nausican raiders we've been chasing just swept by here while attempting to hijack a Tellerite freighter. We've laid in a pursuit course and are heading after them, all hands to your stations. Let's show them what the _Beagle _can do once she's on a scent."

Bashir looked back to Garak who could only pleasantly smile at him and stand up amidst the chaos.

"Red alert."

* * *

"Garak, what's the meaning of this?" Julian demanded to know, pivoting on a heel.

"Well, I believe the captain just announced what's happening. Weren't you listening, Doctor?" He answered innocently.

"Yes, but I have a very hard time believing the Nausicans would stray this close towards a Federation base. They're stupid, but not that stupid."

"Some prizes are just too hard to resist. You know pirates, Doctor, they're all too focused on the ego stage of Rodias Dillir's hierarchy of needs, all about power and self-fulfillment and all that. It's no surprise that it got the better of them."

Julian paused, looking at the Cardassian with a mixture of suspicion and confusion.

"What did you say? _Rodias Dillir_?"

"Of course, Doctor. He was a very pre-eminent Cardassian psychologist during the occupation. Haven't you read _any _of the materials I gave you last week?"

"Dammit, Garak, I'm a doctor not a therapist. All I took were the cursory required courses at Starfleet Medical, I have no need to _review _any of the work, and I can promise you at least fifteen good reasons as to why."

Julian turned away from him and scouted the room until he found Lieutenant Hall, who was currently hunched over a patient on the other side of the room.

"Hull, you have the conn here until I get back. Keep them steady and start strapping them down in case we hit trouble."

Without looking back, the Liuetenent called back as Julian and Garak left the room.

"We always do, Doctor Bashir, we always do."

"Are you sure, Doctor? After all, it helps keep the skills sharp if you maintain proper study practices."

"Believe me, Garak, I have no need to review psychology, neither here nor anytime in the future." Julian said, all but finished with Garak's insistence by the time they reached the turbolift. Thankfully, the _Beagle_'s design was patterned after the _Raven _and _Aerie _ -class ships, meaning the ride would be a short-lived one of only two decks.

"I think you might find it rather handy on this little adventure we've found ourselves in," Garak replied as they stepped into the turbolift, "It's truly a fascinating subject."

Julian turned to him with a questioning brow.

"Speaking of, how _did _this little adventure come to be anyways?" He asked, before quickly cutting Garak off and adding, "And don't say it was luck, because we both know you're never anywhere by chance."

Garak paused for barely a moment, his pleasant veneer not interrupted in the least.

"Not to say that I _did _have anything to do with this, but if I did, rest assured it surely wouldn't have been just to escape the dull monotony of the station."

The doctor rolled his eyes, before nearly slamming Garak into the wall as he shouted at him.

"You're telling me you lured the Nausicans here because you were _bored_?"

Putting his hands up defensively, the tailor simply smiled that damn saccharine smile.

"I never said it was me, Doctor Bashir, but if you studied psychology you might be able to infer some real insight into my words and actions. Only then would you have your answer." He said sweetly.

As calm as Julian normally was, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to slam Garak's face through the turbolift. Instead, he exhaled a long, harsh, breath and glared at the Cardassian as their ascent slowed to a halt.

The doors opened with a whoosh, and Garak extended a hand towards the bridge, inviting Bashir to go first- which he gladly did, better to be on the bridge with witnesses to control his frustration than alone in a turbolift.

Captain Alex Paige, centered in the surprisingly small bridge, turned in his chair to see who had arrived.

"Ah, Doctor Bashir, Mr. Garak, surprised to see you two up here. What do you need?" He asked, his pleasantries only thinly masking his annoyance at having been interrupted from the pursuit.

Julian answered him first, "Well, you'll understand that I wasn't expecting to leave Deep Space Nine today. Now, we're off chasing pirates- a job the _Defiant _or a runabout could've just as easily done."

Captain Paige nodded in understanding and clasped his hands together under his chin.

"It would've taken too long to scramble a crew for either of them. Meanwhile, we have enough people on board, myself included, ready and willing to go after them. I apologize for the delay, but I assure you this won't take long. This time we've got them in our sights, and once the _Beagle'_s on the scent," The fatigue on his face slowly moved to accentuate a smile that reminded Bashir of a Ferengi, "She doesn't give up."

"I do hope you intend to catch them quickly then." Another voice chimed.

Captain Paige's mood soured, and he turned to glare at Elim Garak.

"And just why is that, Mr. Garak?" He asked rhetorically, not caring much for an actual answer.

"Because those pirates are heading towards Celtris Three, which is rather far within the Cardassian border. Too far for a Federation ship to tread, I fear."

There was a brief moment of shock on the Captain's face, and he quickly whirled to the navigational officer just in front of him. The young ensign seated there slowly turned back to face him and nodded gravely. When asked for an estimate on their chances of catching them prior to reaching the border, the answer was just as grim.

"Damn!" The Captain shouted, simultanesouly slamming his fist down on the arm of his chair. His face crumpled into his hand, it was as if the frustration and failure were radiating off of him.

Bashir and Garak traded glances.

The Captain sighed and lazily tossed his hand out as if he was shooing away a fly.

"Keep tailing them, we'll at least chase them into the hands of the Dominion and make sure they don't whirl back around into Federation space," He said as he stood up slowly, "I'll be in my ready room. Caulkens, you have the bridge."

"Actually, Captain, I believe I may be of assistance," Garak interjected, stepping between the Captain and the exit.

Paige almost sneered.

"What assistance could you possibly provide, tailor? I doubt they're desperate enough to get their rags hemmed that they'd stop and wait for us."

"No, but, using a little bit of psychology, we may be able to outwit them and have them start working towards our favour."

Captain Paige regarded him with suspicion, though Bashir could see it was more towards the idea than Garak himself.

"And how, pray tell, would we do that?"

Garak gently stepped around the Captain as he began his explanation.

"Using Akorem Benke's theories, we have to assume they're more interested in security than their self-esteem. In that case," He continued, now enrapturing the bridge crew as he sauntered about, "We need to bump them down to the base level of Benke's needs pyramid, the physical. Things like water, food, and rest. If we can damage their systems enough, cut off their best chance at escape, and tire them out, they'll be forced to focus on the more important needs. When we give them enough space to fool them into thinking they can achieve this, we will be coiled and ready to strike them down."

Garak had single-handedly won over the entire bridge staff, and, admittedly, Julian too.

"What if there's only an illusory correlation, Mr. Garak? What if we're overestimating a perceived relationship here? They are pirates, after all." Paige asked.

"Ah, and many may fall into that bottle and be trapped, but not us. In my time, I've come to discover that pirates are just like any other life form, perhaps even moreso when it comes to those base needs," Garak swept a look across the room to ensure he still had everyone in his grasp before turning back to Paige, "So, what do you say, Captain?"

There was only a moments' hesitation before the bravado of the scene struck home with Paige and courage filled him again. He strode forward and shook Garak's hand before looking around at his own people.

"I say we get those Nausican bastards into a nice, cozy cell, or burn them up in perditions flames!"

The crew sounded off their agreement as Paige fell back into his chair.

"Kick us up to maximum warp, and target their life support systems when we're in range. Someone get me the _Lambda_, they should be on patrol in this sector and her captain owes me a favour, tell them Captain Paige requests their assistance in stopping some pirates from reaching the border."

As Garak strolled back towards Doctor Bashir, proud as punch of his performance, the Captain grabbed his arm.

"Thank you, Mr. Garak, if we catch them you'll have my everlasting gratitude."

"Oh no, Captain," Garak said, "The pleasure's all mine, after all, if you hadn't come along, who knows when I would've been rescued from that dreadful station and thrust into adventure again?"

All Paige could do was laugh and pat him on the arm.

Julian leaned over to Garak and whispered as they walked back to the turbolift.

"Was anything you just said even true? And who's Akorem Benke?"

"It was true to a letter, Doctor, and he's nobody. Just an old Bajoran theorist who came up with some crazy ideas during the occupation, he was actually an assistant to Rodias Dillir."

Bashir paused to ponder the implications of that statement in comparison to what Garak had said about Dillir earlier.

"You don't say."

Then, they descended back to the medical bay.

* * *

In almost no time at all, the _Beagle _had caught up with the Nausican raiders and, with a few precise shots from their advanced phaser banks, had almost crippled the ship. The _Lambda _had managed to persuade them from attempting to limp across the border, and when the pirates had attempted to veer off towards the Velo system, they barely glimpsed its star when the _Beagle _pounced on it from the shadows. All in all, it had been a rather successful day for its crew- a success that had been in dire, dire need. When they finally re-docked with the station, Bashir and Garak were the first ones off.

"If you ever want to get away from the station again, please, Elim, keep me out of it."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Doctor. You're not really cut out for the kind of excitement I crave. No offense, of course." He said, flashing another Cardassian smile that created more tension than it eased.

"None taken," Julian said with a yawn. "Y'know, I don't know about you, Garak, but after that escapade I'm ready to sleep for a week."

Garak stopped and looked at him curiously.

"Well, I'm quite sad to hear that, Doctor. We arrived back just in time for lunch, and I was truly hoping to hear your rousing defense against reviewing those psychological textbooks you promised."

It was then when Julian noticed they'd stopped just outside their usual restaurant, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" Garak asked incredulously, "What's so funny?"

_END._


End file.
